


if i'm never your hero, i can never let you down

by gothfob



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, First Time, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nipple Play, Not a lot tho, Recreational Stalking, Underage Drinking, briefly, gabe is a nuisance, idk how to explain this fic u just gotta read it ok, just a lil, patrick hero worships him, patrick is awkward, pete is a softie, pete is in arma for most of this fic, pete's nipple ring is present because i say so, petnames, slash matchmaker, there is a joe mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 07:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothfob/pseuds/gothfob
Summary: Patrick has heard a lot of rumors about Pete Wentz. They range from bad, to good, to downright ugly. He admits he is attracted to some aspects of the bad boy reputation, but the truth of the matter is he admires Pete.He’s seen him perform with Arma at least 30 times, and there’s something about him that reels Patrick in. Charisma. A stage presence that’s truly one of a kind. A sense of humor. A man who carries himself so gracefully it’s absolutely captivating.A man who screams out heart wrenching lyrics with a passion Patrick has never seen before. Patrick thinks Pete was born to perform.He is always the biggest and loudest person in the room. He grasps everyone’s attention. Everyone wants him. Patrick knows this; he is not special. Pete is. Even though he’s never met him, and he doesn’t know his darkest secrets or anything. Patrick has this feeling in his gut that Pete deserves to be revered.Or the one where Patrick is Pete's biggest fan and he's getting a lot of mixed signals.





	if i'm never your hero, i can never let you down

Patrick has heard a lot of rumors about Pete Wentz. They range from bad, to good, to downright ugly. He admits he is attracted to some aspects of the bad boy reputation, but the truth of the matter is he admires Pete.

He’s seen him perform with Arma at least 30 times, and there’s something about him that reels Patrick in. Charisma. A stage presence that’s truly one of a kind. A sense of humor. A man who carries himself so gracefully it’s absolutely captivating.

A man who screams out heart wrenching lyrics with a passion Patrick has never seen before. Patrick thinks Pete was born to perform.

He is always the biggest and loudest person in the room. He grasps everyone’s attention. Everyone wants him. Patrick knows this; he is not special. Pete is. Even though he’s never met him, and he doesn’t know his darkest secrets or anything. Patrick has this feeling in his gut that Pete deserves to be revered. 

So he keeps coming back to this club, even though he’s under 21. He can’t buy himself a drink, but that doesn’t matter. He stands in the pit, right in front of the stage.

He comes for the feeling that washes over him. The sweat and tears and screams surround him. Everyone who wants to get a piece of Pete Wentz and his own brand of magic.

He’s pretty sure Pete will never notice him amongst the crowd of pretty, young girls who wear fishnets and miniskirts. Patrick is short, chubby, and pale. His mother still cuts his hair. His fashion sense can be described as nerdy professor meets skater boy.

He isn’t much to look at. Pete could have anyone in this dingy little club. Hell, he could have anyone in the world. Patrick is sure that Pete was meant to be a rockstar. 

The truth is this: Patrick worships the ground that Pete walks on. Pete is his hero. He wants to grow up and be just like him someday. But what starts out as hero worship becomes something else. Something more. Something kind of terrifying. Something Patrick has never felt before. 

Patrick is pretty sure he’s half in love with Pete Wentz, and he’s doomed because Pete will never know he exists. Also, the fact that he’s insanely attracted to a man is new. But he doesn’t have time to unpack all that right now. So he shoves down his gay crisis to the back of his mind and he enjoys Pete’s shows. 

He thinks he’ll never have to worry about this particular feeling, because he’ll never interact with Pete. No matter how desperately he wants to. He’s too chicken shit to go up to him and say hello. 

It’s a Saturday night, just like any other of the countless ones he’s spent in this place, recreationally stalking Pete from afar. 

Arma’s show has just ended, and the band is dragging their equipment off the stage and packing it up. Pete can’t seem to be bothered helping his bandmates move the many amps, cords, or instruments. No, of course not. Patrick is camped out in a booth near the door with a glass of Coke. 

If he’s staring at the line of Pete’s back as he gestures frantically and talks to someone else, that’s no one’s business but his own. But then, the unthinkable happens. 

Pete turns around and his gaze falls on Patrick. They lock eyes from across the room. Pete shoots him a Cheshire cat smile and winks at him.

Patrick inhales sharply, suddenly feeling faint. Patrick looks away, stares determinedly down at the tabletop and fidgets with his straw. He hears the footsteps of someone coming up to his table. Patrick bites the straw nervously and dares a glance upwards.

Pete Wentz is standing in front of him, hands on his hips and grin on his face. Fucking hell. He’s even prettier up close. 

“Hi. Fancy meeting you here.” Pete teases. Patrick blinks, his brain trying to process the situation. He must be having a fever dream or something. 

“Uh. Hi.” Patrick chokes out, his voice stilted as his face heats up and turns rosy. 

“I’ve seen you at my shows all the time. You always stand up front and cheer me on. It’s really nice of you.” Pete says. Patrick nearly flinches back at this revelation. 

“I didn’t think you noticed me.” Patrick says, stupidly. His brain to mouth filter seems to be gone, and he isn’t even drunk. It’s unfortunate.

“I never forget a face. What’s your name?” Pete asks, sliding into the booth across from Patrick. 

“Patrick.” Patrick answers, trying to keep his cool. He’s just talking to his idol and gay crush. No big deal. Nothing to see here. 

“I’m Pete. But I’m guessing you already knew that.” Pete beams at him, and punctuates the sentence by popping his gum. Patrick nods.

“Yeah! I’m a big fan of yours. Your lyrics and your stage presence are insane.” Patrick babbles. He wants to slap himself across the face. God, he’s making himself look so fucking desperate and lame. 

“Thanks. That means a lot. Most people call me talentless and incomprehensible.” Pete says it with a playful tone of voice and a sparkle in his eye, but it still makes Patrick feel a bit indignant on his behalf.

“Those people don’t know shit about music.” Patrick states fiercely. Pete laughs at that, a braying sort of sound. It’s so endearing it makes Patrick’s chest ache. 

“And you think you do, kid?” Pete asks. Patrick scowls at the nickname.

“Don’t call me a kid. And I know plenty about music. It’s my passion.” Patrick huffs. Pete’s eyes twinkle at him with amusement. 

“How old are you?” Pete purses his lips to stop himself from outright smirking, Patrick thinks. Patrick hesitates. 

“18.” Patrick decides to tell the truth. He doesn’t think he could get away with saying he’s older than he is, he has a baby face. It is both a blessing and a curse. 

“Oh.” Pete’s grin spreads across his face, wider and decidedly more predatory. “I’m 23. So anyone younger than me is automatically a kid in my brain, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Patrick hurries to reassure Pete fucking Wentz. Jesus Christ, is this really happening? 

“I’ll come up with another nickname for you. No worries.” Pete waves his hand nonchalantly in the air, as if to dismiss any of Patrick’s arguments on this topic.

“How about I buy you a drink, Tricky.” Pete’s smile is downright devilish now. He has really big, white teeth, Patrick notices. His smile reminds Patrick a bit of the big bad wolf. He can’t decide if that’s a bad thing or a good one. 

“Ugh, I hate that nickname even more.” Patrick groans. “But sure. Surprise me. As long as it’s something filled with sugar.” Patrick is delighted by the idea of Pete buying him a drink.

Anything to make him seem like less of a kid in comparison to the man before him. Also, free booze. Patrick’s life has gotten so much more interesting in the last 10 minutes. 

“I can do much worse than that, trust me, Rick.” Pete retorts, but he’s standing up and walking towards the bar with a flourish.

Patrick watches him go, the way his jeans are stuck to him like a second skin. He has a weirdly nice ass for a man who’s pretty scrawny. Patrick envies him. The way he moves, graceful and sure. Confident in his own body. Charming and witty, always with a clever reply on his tongue. 

Patrick is the most awkward and clumsy person you will ever meet. But opposites attract and all that, right? 

Pete comes back a couple minutes later with two bright blue cocktails in hand. He slides one across the table to Patrick and sinks into the other side of the booth again. He puts his feet up on Patrick’s side of the booth, and takes a sip of his drink, tongue first. 

Patrick is ashamed with the way he can’t seem to take his eyes off Pete’s mouth, his face flushing in embarrassment when Pete sees him staring. Pete sticks out his tongue and then laughs at him, his eyes crinkling with it. Can he get anymore perfect? Patrick thinks that might be impossible. 

Patrick takes a large gulp of his drink to take the edge off his nerves. It tastes good, saturated in enough syrup that it doesn’t burn as it goes down. Patrick isn’t a big fan of his tongue being bright blue for the rest of the night, but he’s resigned himself to it if the cocktail tastes that good. 

“How is it?” Pete asks, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. 

“Yummy.” Patrick replies, for lack of a better word. He continues to make himself sound like an idiot. Pete laughs at him again.

“You remind me of my friend Gabe. He says that a lot, that word is like his catchphrase.” Pete tells him earnestly. Patrick nearly chokes on his drink.

“Gabe Saporta?” Patrick squeaks out, trying to contain his excitement. Patrick has seen him perform a few times in this exact club, in fact. He thinks Gabe has a great voice. He’s also easy on the eyes. 

“You’re a fan of his too?” Pete chuckles. “That’s incredible. I’ll be sure to tell him. You might wanna be careful, though.” Pete says, his eyebrows furrowing a little in something akin to concern. 

“Why?” Patrick splutters, confused. 

“You’re his type. He isn’t the relationship sort of person. He’s more of a hit it and quit it kind of dude. I just wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Pete says. Pete cares about Patrick’s feelings getting hurt? Patrick is feeling a little woozy and he doesn’t think it’s because of the alcohol. 

“I’m not_ gay. _” Patrick says this, with feeling, absolutely lying through his goddamn teeth. “Even if I was, I’m not into Gabe or anything. Like, yeah, he’s handsome, I’ll admit that, but he’s not the kind of boy I’d go for.” Patrick laughs nervously.

Pete looks at him, far too knowing. Patrick feels like Pete’s hot whiskey eyes are staring right into his soul. 

“Oh, really?” Pete tilts his head, and a smirk starts to form on his face. “What kind of boy would you go for?” 

Patrick squints at him, his heart starting to race. He’s getting suspicious that Pete might know that the person he has a crush on is himself. 

“I’ve decided to not dictate that question with an answer. I feel like it will be used against me.” Patrick states primly, taking another large gulp of his drink.

Pete laughs hysterically, clutching his stomach. Once he gets control of himself again, he’s breathing hard and wiping tears out of his eyes.

“God, kiddo. You’re cute.” Pete says simply. Patrick fumes. He should’ve told him the truth.

He didn’t think flirting would be this hard, but Pete seems content with sending him mixed signals and treating him like a little brother. It’s weird. Pete Wentz is an enigma.

“I told you not to call me that.” Patrick scowls, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He downs the rest of his drink until there’s only ice left in the glass. 

“Sorry.” Pete gives him a shit-eating grin. He is very clearly not sorry at all. “I’ll stop.” Pete finishes his drink in a couple of big swigs, and then he’s standing up and pulling Patrick up with him by the wrist. 

Patrick isn’t sure what he expects. A guy hug? A handshake? Pete surprises him yet again and does neither.

Before Patrick can even blink, Pete has him wedged under his armpit. He smells decidedly like booze, boy sweat, and cheap cologne from Hot Topic.

Usually Patrick would find it gross, but clearly there’s something wrong with his hormones tonight, because his dick twitches in his pants. Pete decides this is a good time to give Patrick a noogie.

He just takes his knuckles and essentially fucks up Patrick’s hair. Patrick hisses, and promptly elbows Pete in the stomach. Pete gasps and lets go. Patrick feels bad about it for a second, but then Pete is standing up again and still smiling. 

“You’re feisty.” Pete sounds pleased about it. Patrick is disgruntled at best now, trying to fix his hair.

Pete seems to take stock of this, and then proceeds to take the knitted hat off his own head and place it on Patrick’s. He pulls down the brim over Patrick’s eyes, making his strawberry blonde bangs fall in his face. 

“You can keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” Pete looks a little sheepish, like he knows he’s pissed Patrick off and feels bad about it. 

“Thanks for the drink. And the hat.” Patrick says, dumbly. He doesn’t know what else to say. Pete doesn’t seem to need any more words from him.

Pete leans forward and places a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek.

“Bye, Lunchbox. I’ll see ya around.” Pete says, and then he vanishes into the crowd of the dimly lit club. Patrick stares at the spot he was for a solid couple of minutes, convinced he just hallucinated that whole thing. He touches the brim of the hat and fixes his hair. Definitely real. 

xxx

The next time Patrick sees Pete, he’s on stage again. Patrick is standing in front of the stage, like he always does for Pete’s shows. Pete has made eye contact with him exactly twice in the last hour. Yes, Patrick is keeping count. And what about it? 

Pete is in the middle of a speech about the next song they’re going to play. He finishes speaking, but before the song starts he’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side of the stage.

The crowd roars with it. Pete shoots Patrick a teasing smile, and then he’s lifting the strap to his bass over his shoulder and grabbing the mic.

Patrick notices something glinting in the stage lights. Holy shit. It’s a nipple piercing. Pete Wentz has a nipple piercing. Patrick immediately feels his blood rush downward, throbbing between his legs. Listen, he can’t help it. Teenage hormones and all that. 

Patrick knows it’s not polite to stare, but he really can’t stop staring at Pete’s chest. And abs. Fuck, he has a toned stomach. And a tattoo right above his dick. Christ. Patrick thinks Pete might be the death of him. 

By the end of the show, Pete’s sweating profusely and his ink stands out in sharp contrast. Patrick really wants to lick him, as gross as that sounds. Or at least get his mouth on that nipple piercing. He wants to know what sort of noise Pete might make. 

Patrick heads back to his usual booth by the door with a water bottle in hand. Patrick expects Pete to approach him first, but the universe has other plans. Gabe Saporta seems to materialize before him, and he stands in front of Patrick and reaches out a hand.

“Hi. You must be Patrick. Pete has told me a lot about you.” Gabe says, megawatt smile directed at him. Patrick shakes his hand, dumbfounded. Gabe sits across from him and somehow manages to keep his gangly long legs to himself. 

“Hi. That’s me.” Patrick stutters. His mouth feels dry, anxiety making his leg bounce under the table. “What has Pete told you about me?” Patrick asks. He doesn’t even care if he sounds desperate at this point. 

“Well,” Gabe leers at him in a strangely smug sort of way. “He said you’re a fan of mine. Which I’m always happy to hear.” Patrick deflates at this. He expected something more, something better. 

“That’s all?” Patrick says, his face crestfallen. 

“No.” Gabe snorts. “Don’t look so down, angel face. He also told me to stay away from you, because he has dibs. On the kid with the pretty mouth.” Patrick is pretty sure his heart stops for a moment. 

“It looks like you aren’t very good at following rules.” Patrick squints at him in annoyance. “There’s no way he said that. You’re lying.” 

Gabe shakes his head, chuckling. 

“That’s an exact quote. I couldn’t make up the shit that man says if I tried. You wanna ask him yourself?” Gabe says, his smile mischievous. 

“No!” Patrick yelps, trying to intercept Gabe when he raises his arm and gestures for Pete to come over here. “He can’t possibly like me. I’m _ me. _He treats me like his little brother.” 

“I think you’re misunderstanding the situation, querido. He has some very unorthodox methods of flirting, trust me, I know. But he’s obsessed with you. And he’s only had like one conversation with you. That means something.” Gabe says, sounding more sincere and less teasing. 

“Oh.” Patrick breathes out. He lets go of Gabe’s arm. Gabe immediately calls Pete over, being obnoxiously loud about it. He can see why they’re friends. Two halves of the same weird coin. Patrick covers his face with his hands in embarrassment, trying to hide his blush. 

Pete seems to vibrate in excitement when he spots Patrick. He’s wearing his shirt again. What a shame. Patrick knows this because he’s peaking through his fingers, watching the way Pete breaks out into a pearlescent grin. 

“Hey, Gabey. I see you’ve met Pattycakes.” Pete laughs good-naturedly. Patrick removes his hands from his face just so Pete sees his disapproving scowl.

He’s having a hard time being grumpy when he’s pretty sure Pete likes him back. If Gabe can be trusted. There’s a 50/50 shot. That’s better odds than he had before. 

“That I have. He’s a real dreamboat. I see why you like him so much. I’ll just...leave you two alone.” Gabe escapes promptly, jumping to his feet and disappearing into the crowd. Patrick kind of wants to punch him, even though he means well. 

Instead of getting into the opposite side of the booth, Pete gestures for Patrick to scoot over. Patrick obeys, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Pete slides into the booth next to him. He gets so close that their thighs are touching. It makes Patrick’s stomach flutter and his palms sweat.

“Hiya, _ baby. _Gabe didn’t bother you, did he?” Pete asks, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. His gaze is attentive, scanning Patrick from head to toe.

There are no mixed signals this time. Patrick thinks Pete is being explicitly clear about what he wants. His body language is inviting. Even if Patrick didn’t pick up on that, there’s no mistaking Pete calling him _baby_. Casually. Like he does it all the time. It’s making Patrick swoon. He wants to hear it again. 

“Um, yes. I mean, kind of? He’s just annoying. I’m sure you know. He said that you told him about me.” Patrick stumbles over his words, feeling flustered by Pete being so close to him. 

“Believe me, I know. We’re very similar in our ability to annoy people. What did he tell you I said?” Pete asks, his eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth. He tilts his head a lot, a bit like a puppy. Patrick thinks that’s an appropriate and cute comparison. 

“I mean?” Patrick squeaks out, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “He told me that you like me. And that you told him to stay away from me.” Patrick blurts, trying to avoid Pete’s eyes.

Pete laughs, the sound full of warmth. Pete gently grabs Patrick by the chin and turns his head so he looks at him when he talks. 

“He didn’t tell you the part about your pretty mouth? Shame.” Pete tsks, his thumb trailing up to Patrick’s mouth and tracing his lips softly. Patrick is frozen in place, his mouth tingling from Pete’s phantom touch. Pete drops his hand. Patrick feels disappointed by this. 

“No. He did. He also said that you’re kind of obsessed with me. And that it means something.” Patrick says it so fast he feels lightheaded. Pete grins at him wolfishly. 

“Obsessed makes me sound kind of creepy. But he’s not wrong. Of course it means something. Have you seen yourself?” Pete asks, genuinely distraught over the fact that Patrick might not agree about his appearance. He doesn’t, obviously. 

“Yes. But I’m nothing special. And you’re like...a fucking _ rockstar. _” Patrick sighs. This isn’t the time to be feeling bad for himself. Pete likes him back. He should do something about it. 

“Knock it off. You are something special, man. I’d do anything to prove that to you. Besides, rockstar is just a title, isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything.” Pete looks angry, his mouth a harsh line and his eyebrows scrunched together. Patrick softens at that, the idea of Pete being upset by his self-deprecation. 

“Thank you. I really want to believe you. I’m sorry that I can’t. I guess I just have a hard time believing someone like you could be into me.” Patrick huffs, frustrated with himself. He’s fucking this up before it’s even started. 

“Patrick,” Pete groans. “I am so into you, it is insane. The magnitude of it cannot be measured or even summed up in words. The only thing that could make me like you more is if you could sing.” Pete says this fiercely.

Patrick sucks in a sharp breath and weighs his options. He doesn’t think he’s a good singer, but everyone always tells him he is. 

“It’s mutual.” Patrick settles on saying, smiling at Pete brightly. “Do you need a singer for Arma?” Patrick asks. He wants to know what he’s getting into if he confesses his secret talents. 

“Not exactly.” Pete shakes his head, hesitant. “I’m trying to start a new band with a friend of mine. Something less heavy. He’s a guitarist. I’m still gonna play bass and I want to keep writing lyrics. But we need a drummer. And I’m looking for someone to be the voice to my words, you know?” Pete tells him this earnestly, with a dreamy look on his face.

Patrick makes his choice.

“I think I can sing. I’m not the best at it or anything, but I can carry a tune. I’ll do it. If you want me to.” Patrick word vomits. He’s proud of himself for not backing out and saying he can be the drummer instead. Pete stares at him, his mouth gaping open in shock. 

Pete seems to collect himself after a minute, and then he’s grinning at Patrick like a lunatic. 

“Holy fuck. God, can I pick ‘em, or what?” Pete giggles. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Pete says.

That’s all the warning Patrick has before Pete grabs his face and leans forward until their mouths connect. Patrick melts into it, lets Pete control the kiss. This is the first time he’s ever kissed a boy. Fuck, Patrick is definitely gay. Super gay. He’s never been more sure than in this moment. He’s incredibly happy about this turn of events. 

Pete pulls away before Patrick is ready, and Patrick starts to pull him back in by his shirt collar, but Pete stops him. Patrick pouts. 

“Sorry. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. I haven’t even heard you sing but somehow I just know you’ve got the voice of an angel. I’ll have to give you my number so we can set up a time for your audition. But for now.” Pete looks at him a little sheepishly. “Do you want to come back to my place?” 

Patrick blinks, caught off guard by the offer. As if he would say no. Please. This is a dream come true. In every sense of the word. 

“Yes. Of course.” Patrick beams at him. Pete grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers. 

“Come on, Rickster. My apartment is only a couple blocks away from here, so we can walk.” Patrick is so happy to be holding Pete’s hand he doesn’t even care that they’re both sweaty with nerves. 

After a fifteen minute walk and a conversation getting to know each other, they arrive at Pete’s place. It’s an old, rickety apartment building with a lot of stairs and a broken elevator.

But when they get to Pete’s floor and he manages to shove the door open, the inside looks pretty nice. 

It’s scattered with CDs, DVDs, books, art work, there’s even a few vinyls lying around that catch Patrick’s eye. There’s also a lot of tacky clothing strewn across Pete’s living room. It feels very welcoming and resonates with Pete’s personality. It represents him perfectly. It makes Patrick smile. 

Pete toes off his sneakers and Patrick does the same. Pete leads him into his bedroom by the hand and then flops down onto his bed.

Patrick follows suit, sitting on the edge of the bed. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He’s trembling a little, but he knows he wants to do this. He wants Pete. 

“You okay?” Pete asks, gently. Pete sits up and reaches forward to touch his shoulder. God, he’s too fucking sweet. Patrick can’t believe his luck. 

“Yeah.” Patrick decides to go for broke. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never done this with a boy before.” Patrick admits. Pete rubs his back for a moment.

“I figured as much. You did try to tell me you weren’t gay last week.” Pete teases, nudging him with his elbow. Patrick flushes at the memory.

“I wasn’t sure! And I didn’t wanna expose myself by admitting I had a crush on you.” Patrick huffs. 

“Does this mean I’m the person who triggered your gay awakening?” Pete looks far too pleased. Patrick shoves him. 

“Yes. Don’t look so smug about it.” Patrick whines. 

“I am very flattered by this information. And I will absolutely brag about it until I die.” Pete is trying to provoke him. It works.

Patrick tackles him onto the bed and pins his arms above his head. Pete could get out of it if he wanted to, Patrick is very aware of his heavily tattooed, deliciously tanned biceps. 

“Shut up.” Patrick demands. He isn’t very good at comebacks when he’s turned on. Pete’s the one with the words, anyway. 

“I’m really not complaining about this punishment.” Pete gives him a devilish grin. Patrick kisses him hard. His enthusiasm probably makes him sloppy, but he really doesn’t care.

Pete pulls himself free from Patrick’s grasp and holds onto Patrick’s hips before he flips them over. 

Pete is on top of him, keeping most of his weight on his forearms by Patrick’s head. Pete presses their hips together, and Patrick pulses with pure desire. He can feel Pete’s dick, warm and hard against his thigh. 

“I already feel like I’m going to come. Is that bad?” Patrick pants heavily. Pete shakes his head, smirking.

“You can whenever you want. I plan on making you come more than once tonight.” Pete says it like a promise. It makes Patrick shiver. 

They make out for a while, with a lot of heavy petting. Patrick manages to get one hand up the front of Pete’s shirt, dragging upwards against warm, bare skin. They’re still tangled at the mouth when Patrick reaches Pete’s nipple piercing. He twists the little metal ring until Pete moans into the kiss. It’s the most intimate thing Patrick has ever done with anyone. He’s glad he’s doing this with Pete. He makes the prettiest noises. 

“The nipple ring really gets you going, doesn’t it?” Pete chuckles, burying his face in Patrick’s neck. Patrick shrugs, completely unashamed.

“I’m pretty sure it does something for you too, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten it, right?” Patrick retorts, twisting Pete’s nipple a lot harder than the last time. Pete grunts at that, his face twitching from the mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Touché." Pete says, breathily. 

Things seem to escalate quickly after that, both equally frantic in getting each other naked. If it were a sport, they’d win a gold medal.

Patrick is so overtaken by this wave of want that he forgets to be nervous. Pete has a way of putting people at ease, Patrick thinks. He’s easy to be vulnerable with. It’s a recipe for danger, but Pete makes him feel safe. 

“Usually I like to bottom, but because you’ve never done this before, I’m guessing you want me to fuck you?” Pete asks, raising an eyebrow at him as he roots around in his bedside table for lube and a condom. Patrick thinks Pete is most definitely reading his mind. 

“Yes. I think it’s kind of daunting either way, but I want the full experience.” Patrick says. Pete smirks, preparing to say something dirty. Patrick covers his mouth before he can and says “Don’t. Whatever gross joke you were going to make. Stop it.” 

“You’re no fun.” Pete pouts. Patrick rolls his eyes, and tells Pete to get on with it already. The anticipation is killing him. Pete slicks up his fingers with an obscene amount of lube, warming it up.

Patrick spreads his legs and Pete places one hand on his hip and the other traces back behind his balls until Pete finds his hole. 

His index finger skims Patrick’s rim, and Patrick shudders with the feeling. 

“It might burn at first. But I promise it’ll feel good soon. Tell me if you need me to stop.” Pete says. Patrick smiles up at the ceiling and prepares himself for the intrusion.

Pete presses the first finger in slowly, waiting for Patrick to make room for him. His body relaxes incrementally, letting Pete inside. 

It burns, the pain making him went to pull away and close his legs. He doesn’t. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing. Gradually, Pete begins to move the finger in and out. After a couple of minutes, it doesn’t hurt anymore. It still feels weird, but Patrick urges him to add another finger. 

His body accepts this one much faster, and Pete starts twisting his wrist and curling his fingers. Pete’s tongue sticks out of the side of his mouth when he concentrates. Patrick starts to say something, but it dies in his throat when Pete hits that bundle of nerves inside of him and he cries out wantonly. 

“Right there, oh my god, what the fuck. Pete, _ please. _” Patrick babbles. Pete bites his hip bone and slides in another finger. Patrick squirms, pushing back against Pete’s hand. 

“Are you ready for me? You feel like you’re ready.” Pete muses, his eyes half-lidded with lust. Patrick nods vigorously, unable to string a sentence together when Pete is fingering him so enthusiastically. Pete laughs at the tortured, sex-drunk look on his face. 

Pete hands him the condom, his own hands too slippery with excess lube to open it. Patrick pulls it open with his teeth and gives it back to him.

Pete pulls out his fingers gently and slicks up his prick. He slides the condom on with practiced ease, and then he’s grabbing onto Patrick’s thighs and hoisting them onto his waist. 

Pete looks up at him one more time to make sure he’s alright. Patrick nods again, shaking from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

Pete grabs his dick by the base and lines himself up with Patrick’s entrance. He holds onto Patrick’s hips tightly and pushes forwards, an inch at a time.

Patrick grunts as the pain courses through him, holds onto Pete’s neck as he waits for it to subside. Pete slides all the way in until he’s buried to the hilt. 

Pete ducks down to kiss Patrick again, trying to reassure him. 

“It’s alright, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise.” Pete says it sincerely. Patrick bites his bottom lip and urges Pete to move. Pete starts to fuck him, but it’s excrutiatingly slow. The drag in and out is making Patrick insane. 

“Faster. Pete, I’m not made of glass. C’mon.” Patrick pleads. Pete grins down at him wickedly.

“You asked for it.” Pete says, and then he starts pounding into Patrick. Patrick can feel the pleasure pooling low in his stomach, his dick aching with the friction of Pete’s belly rubbing against it. 

Patrick whimpers when Pete finds his spot again. Patrick arches his back, trying to push himself back against Pete’s thrusts. The only sounds in the room are their skin slapping together and their heavy breathing, the headboard banging against the wall with the force of it. 

Pete leans down so he can suck a hickey into Patrick’s neck. Patrick growls, Pete’s hips pistoning in and out of him, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he gets closer to the edge. 

Patrick drags his nails down Pete’s back, leaving raised lines in his wake. Pete hisses and buries one of his hands in Patrick’s hair and pulls. He thinks he deserved that. Even so, he enjoys it more than he should. He moans at the roughness, revels in it. 

Pete reaches down between them to wrap his hand around Patrick’s dick, engorged and heavy between his legs. Patrick whines, unable to decide between pushing against Pete’s dick or up into his hand.

Patrick thinks he has made a valiant effort, but he can’t hold on for much longer. He thinks he lasted a respectable amount of time, even. 

Patrick feels his balls draw up towards his body, and Pete speeds up his strokes to match the pace of his hips. 

Patrick comes with Pete’s name on his lips, howling and painting their bellies and chests in silky white strands. Patrick clenches like a vice around Pete’s cock, and that seems to do him in.

Pete looks down at Patrick, wrecked and covered in his own come, and then he shoves his fingers in his mouth. He’s licking Patrick’s come off his own hand. Patrick feels his dick give a valiant twitch at that. 

Pete comes with his fingers in his mouth, his eyes wide and dark as he ruts into Patrick one last time and buries himself there, filling the condom with spurt after spurt of jizz.

He trembles with it, his hips jerking forwards and his stomach clenching. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. Pete catches his breath, staring at Patrick with something like awe.

Once the aftershocks are over, he pulls out and ties off the condom. Pete gets up to throw it in the garbage and get a warm wash cloth from the bathroom to clean them up. 

Patrick feels warm and safe in Pete’s bed, letting Pete take care of him. It’s more than he could’ve even dreamed of. Pete drops the cloth on the nightstand and wraps Patrick up tight in his arms. He places a kiss on Patrick’s temple and buries his nose in his hair. 

“That was incredible. Thank you.” Patrick says. It seems a little weird to thank someone for sex, but it felt like more than that.

“For what?” Pete chuckles. 

“Everything. For being you. For asking me to join your band. For inviting me to your place.” Patrick gushes. He just can’t believe this is happening. 

“It’s no problem, darling. You’ve already stole my heart.” Pete admits. Patrick kind of wants to cry at that.

“You stole mine too.” Patrick whispers. Pete runs a hand through his hair, petting him. 

“Speaking of the band...I gotta give you my number. So we can schedule that audition and I can hear that magical golden voice of yours. Oh, also, you have to meet Joe.” Pete slides out of the bed to look for his sidekick. It’s buried in the pocket of his jeans. Patrick’s eyes are absolutely focused on Pete’s ass. Is that rude after you have sex with someone? He doesn’t care. 

“Joe?” Patrick inquires. 

“Yeah. My friend, that guitarist. I think you guys will get along great. He’s your age, actually.” Pete smiles, getting back in the bed and handing his phone to Patrick.

“Oh. That sounds cool. I’m excited!” Patrick says honestly as he types in his number and saves the contact under ‘Trick’. So maybe he likes some of Pete’s nicknames. Sue him. 

“Me too, honey. We’re gonna take over the world.” Pete says this with stars in his eyes. Patrick rolls his eyes and hands Pete his phone back. 

“You haven’t even heard me sing. What if I totally suck?” Patrick frowns. 

“Impossible. I have this gut feeling about you. And my gut feelings are never wrong.” Pete grins impishly at him and boops him on the nose.

Patrick scoots closer and tangles their arms and legs together. He rests his head on Pete’s chest and listens to the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady. 

You know that saying about how you should never meet your heroes? It’s not true. He has proved that theory wrong. Pete Wentz is much lovelier than he could’ve ever imagined. And Patrick can’t wait to know everything there is to know about him. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is. a one shot idea i always wanted to write. fluff. gentleness. humor. falling in love (at first sight? ish). i just was amused by the idea of patrick being young and starry eyed over the king of the chicago scene pete wentz. and him misreading pete's flirting utterly and completely. and getting frustrated. and gabe making matters better and worse at the same time. i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it. i wrote most of this tonight, for about four hours straight. appreciate my hard work. i hope this tides y'all over until i have the time travel fic update posted. kudos and comments keep me sane.
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @gothfob :)


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